16. Robin
Robin
C astle Blacklake always feels different in the morning light—less imposing, more like a home where people actually live and laugh and make memories. I descend the wide stone staircase, still damp-haired from my shower, heading toward the Great Hall.
I find Uncle Stefan standing alone by the massive windows that overlook the black lake, his silhouette dignified and faintly melancholy against the morning sky.
He’s older than Eva by at least thirty years, but there’s something timeless about the way he carries himself—straight-backed, hands clasped behind him. And for some reason, I think he seems…
Sad.
“Good morning,” I say softly, not wanting to startle him from his contemplation.
He turns with a warm smile that transforms his entire face. “Robin. Hello, again. I think spring is my favorite season in these mountains.”
“It’s beautiful,” I agree, moving to stand beside him. The lake stretches out like polished obsidian, reflecting the pale sky and the forest that rolls away toward distant peaks. “So peaceful.”
“The wildflowers will be everywhere soon—entire meadows painted purple and gold. And the birds...” He gestures toward a cluster of trees where something small and bright flickers between the branches.
“Warblers returning from their winter migrations. My wife used to say they carried songs from warmer lands in their hearts.”
The past tense catches my attention, but I don’t pry. Instead, I let the comfortable silence settle between us while we watch the lake’s surface shimmer in the breeze.
“Have you been out on the water yet?” Stefan asks, nodding toward the boathouse down by the lake.
“No, not yet. I know the kids would love to swim, though. Eva promised we’d have a picnic down there if it stays warm enough.” The words feel strange in my mouth— we, as if Eva and I have a future full of lazy afternoons and shared adventures.
“She keeps her promises,” Stefan says quietly. “That’s something you can count on.”
There’s something in his tone that makes me glance at him, but his expression reveals nothing. Still, I file away the comment—another small piece in the puzzle of understanding Eva’s family dynamics.
“How are your siblings settling in?” he continues, changing the subject.
“They’re thriving,” I say, unable to keep the joy from my voice. “Maisie’s healthier than ever. Alicia’s completely enchanted by everything—the castle, the village, the history. Adrian’s finding his place, making friends. And Dane...”
I pause, remembering breakfast and Eva’s casual recruitment of my youngest brother.
“Dane is helping Eva with some work today,” I finish weakly.
Stefan’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Helping? In what capacity?”
“Nothing serious,” I assure him quickly. “Just spreadsheets, really. You know how some teenage boys are with computers—he hates being away from the internet for too long. Eva gave him some data analysis to keep him busy. Anonymous numbers, completely harmless.”
Stefan nods thoughtfully. It makes me wonder exactly what kind of work Eva and Stefan have been discussing.
“Will you join us in the village today?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood. “The kids would love to show you around.”
“Unfortunately, duty calls. But perhaps another time.” His smile is genuinely regretful. “Eva and I have considerable business to discuss.”
As if summoned by her name, Eva appears in the doorway—perfectly polished despite the early hour, every dark hair in place, her silk blouse and tailored trousers making her look like she stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine.
“Robin!” Her face lights up when she sees me.
“I just set Dane up in the library. He seemed very happy to be left alone there for now. But I’m sorry,” she continues, crossing to where Stefan and I stand by the windows.
“I know I promised to spend the day with you, little bird, but Stefan and I need to work.”
Disappointment runs through me, but I push it aside. This is Eva’s world, after all—a world where business doesn’t pause for family picnics and lazy mornings.
“That’s fine,” I tell her, meaning it. “I’ll head down to the village myself, check on the kids. Make sure they’re not terrorizing Dimi too much.”
Eva’s hand finds mine briefly, her thumb brushing across my knuckles in a gesture so subtle Stefan might not even notice. But the warmth of her touch lingers long after she pulls away.
“Be careful,” she murmurs, and something in her voice makes me wonder what new dangers she’s considering, what fresh threats she’s trying to shield me from.
“Always am,” I lie. We both know my track record for staying out of trouble is questionable at best.
The walk down to the village shows that spring is definitely here—I can see it in the tender green of new grass, the fat buds swelling on tree branches, the way the air smells of earth and possibility.
But instead of heading straight to the village square where the kids are probably causing some kind of cheerful chaos, I find myself detouring toward the school.
It looks better than ever in the midmorning light.
The building practically gleams with fresh white paint, the windows sparkle, and the playground equipment shows no signs of the rust and decay I noticed during my first visit.
Children’s voices spill from the open classroom windows, bright with laughter and the musical cadence of their native language.
A woman I don’t recognize—thirties, maybe, with kind eyes and paint-stained fingers—looks up from where she’s supervising a group of children playing some elaborate game involving rope and a lot of running.
“You are Robin, yes?” she asks in English with a broad smile. “I am Petra, the head teacher. Please, would you like to look around?”
“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt?—”
“No interruption. The children are at play now.” She gestures toward the building with obvious pride. “We are so grateful for what you inspired. The repairs, the new supplies…it has changed everything for us.”
“I didn’t really do anything,” I protest, but she’s already leading me toward the entrance.
“You did more than you know. Come, see.”
The interior takes my breath away. What was once shabby and makeshift has been transformed into something warm and welcoming.
Proper chalkboards line the walls, each child has their own desk instead of sharing benches, and colorful posters display everything from the local alphabet to hand-drawn maps of the region.
“The children made these,” Petra explains, pointing to a display of artwork near the windows. Crayon drawings of families, pets, the castle looming over the village like a protective giant. “We have art supplies now. Music instruments. Books in both our language and English.”
I trace my finger along the edge of a desk, remembering my own classroom back in Las Vegas—cramped, understaffed, equipped with outdated textbooks and broken dreams. This feels different. Hopeful.
“You miss it,” Petra observes, watching my expression.
“Miss what?”
“Teaching. You have the look—someone who belongs in a classroom.”
I shake my head, embarrassed at the idea. “I was just a teacher’s aide. I never got the chance to finish my education, become a real teacher.”
“Real teacher?” Petra laughs. “You think degrees make teachers? Certificates and papers?” She taps her chest. “Heart makes teachers. Understanding. The wish to help children grow. These things cannot be taught.”
“Maybe, but?—”
“You should help us,” she interrupts, eyes lighting up with sudden enthusiasm. “Teaching English to the children. It would be invaluable for their futures—opens doors, creates opportunities.”
Teaching again. Being useful, using my skills for something meaningful instead of just surviving from one crisis to the next.
“I don’t have qualifications,” I say weakly. “Work permits, teaching certificates?—”
Petra’s smile turns knowing. “I think the lady can ensure such things, no? When she wishes something to happen…”
She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. We both know Eva’s power extends far beyond weapons dealing and territorial negotiations.
But even as excitement bubbles up in my chest, doubt creeps in.
What would it mean for my family to stay here long enough for me to take on teaching responsibilities?
Alicia and Dane have their own schooling needs.
Adrian’s already planning which colleges to submit applications to with hopes of starting next year.
Can I really ask them to build a life in this remote corner of Europe just so I can chase an old dream?
And most of all, can I really ask them to uproot themselves just because I happen to be in love?
“Think about it,” Petra says gently, recognizing my internal struggle. “The offer remains open.”
I promise I will, then make my excuses and continue toward the village square, my mind spinning with possibilities I hadn’t dared consider before.
The square bustles with morning activity, but near the fountain, I spot my family.
Even from a distance, the dynamics are clear. Adrian stands slightly apart from the group, arms crossed, scowling at something. Mira perches on the fountain’s edge, laughing at whatever Dimi is saying while he gestures expansively with his hands. Alicia and Maisie sit nearby, looking rapt.
As I get closer, I catch the tail end of Dimi’s story about some adventure involving a helicopter and a very angry Swiss customs official. Mira’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and she claps her hands when he reaches the dramatic conclusion.
“Completely ridiculous,” Adrian mutters under his breath as I approach.
“What’s ridiculous?” I ask.
“Him.” Adrian jerks his chin toward Dimi, who’s now examining Mira’s latest repairs to her dirt bike with exaggerated interest. “He’s such a faker. I can’t understand why all you girls find him so charming.”
“All us girls?” I tease. “Or one girl in particular?”
“Traitor,” Adrian accuses, but his scowl softens into something more like grudging affection.